poetry & things

The Dragoons

Driving east, I leave the sun,

still behind mountains, to burn

east, vastly deep, cold cool desert

early before mirages sweep in waves

oceans of stones, smoothed round

flooding, tumbling cactus down

early, under dawn’s flowing gown

billowing, red sky of fire

on back roads, Apache trails

seeking souls, lost within the Dragoons

rest, I sleep amid ancient bones

celebrate, dance with ancestral ghosts

free, our spirits roam

the Cochise stronghold

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